“Hello,” the doctor said softly as she lifted the skull. It was clearly smaller than the first. Dr. Peres examined the face and the cranial sutures and turned it over to look at the teeth and other sutures. “Caucasian,” she said, frowning. “That’s the easy part. Young. The first molars are well established. No second molars yet, so most likely under twelve. I’ll narrow it later when I can take some films, measurements, and examine it in better light.”
Rowan couldn’t breathe.
Dr. Peres ran fingers over the forehead and touched the upper parts of the orbital sockets and frowned again. “I think it’s female . . . but it’s hard at this age.” She looked at Rowan, sincerity in her eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you for certain at the moment.”
“Hair?” Rowan croaked.
Evan touched her arm. She’d forgotten he was even present. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” As okay as one could be standing at the possible grave of a missing loved one.
Dr. Peres examined the dirt under the skull. “There’s no hair immediately visible. We’ll sift for it. But it’s possible the skull was moved a bit from its original place. I’m glad we’re on a flat piece of ground. Gravity and weather and animals can really spread out a scene when it’s on a slope.”
She moved some more dirt and nodded to herself. “This skull isn’t where I’d expect it based on the position of the rest of the bones for these particular remains. The bones have been moved in some way. Animals maybe.”
“Could a person have moved them?” asked Evan.
“Sure,” the doctor said with a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t know why someone would, though.”
“Dr. Peres.” There was tension in the first tech’s voice. “There’s another skull under this one’s ribs.”
The doctor set the small skull back in the dirt and immediately joined the tech. “Photos,” she ordered, taking the sketch pad from the photographer. Dr. Peres scowled at the new skull and added details to the sketch as the photographer’s camera rapidly clicked. “It’s another adult female.”
Rowan and the two detectives exchanged glances.
There are more bodies?
“Is this a dumping ground?” Evan asked under his breath.
Rowan looked back at the small skull.
Malcolm?
17
Malcolm, twenty-five years ago
Rowan and Malcolm were in the shed when he shouted for them to put on the blindfolds. Unprepared, they scrambled to do as he said. “Why?” Rowan whispered.
Malcolm didn’t reply because he was also confused, dread filling every muscle. The man had already run them around that day, and it wasn’t time for dinner yet. The sun was high in the sky, and the shed was roasting. He usually left them alone at that time of day.
“I’m so tired.”
“Shhhh,” Malcolm told her, kneeling in his corner.
The locks rattled and clicked, and the hinges squeaked as he opened the door. “You. Boy. With me.” He stepped inside, and Malcolm felt the floor dip.
Malcolm leaped to his feet, and the man grabbed his arm, leading him out of the shed. The door slammed, and he fastened the locks.
Malcolm was relieved Rowan was inside, because now he knew it wouldn’t be a competition, and the man wouldn’t make him hurt her.
But what will he do to me?
They walked for several minutes, the man’s hand still on Malcolm’s arm, and when Malcolm’s blindfold shifted the tiniest bit, he didn’t adjust it. Now he could see some of the ground and was less likely to trip.
Many minutes later, Malcolm stood silently inside another building. The temperature was comfortable, and he could see gold-and-orange linoleum. Anger flooded him. Their shed was too hot, and the floors gave them splinters, while this place was minutes away with normal floors and air-conditioning.
Why are we kept like animals?
Malcolm’s legs ached, and he shifted his balance from foot to foot, wondering how long he’d been standing in the cool room. Too long. But the man had told him not to move, so he obeyed. He could hear the man walking around the room, occasionally muttering something.
Something scraped the floor—maybe a chair—and Malcolm had the impression the man had sat down directly in front of him. It was silent for a long moment, so Malcolm waited.
“How would you like it if your sister goes home?” the man asked.
Shock froze Malcolm’s tongue. He hadn’t expected the man to say that. His mind struggled to understand . . . he was going to free them?